


willingly damned

by dev0n



Series: killing strangers [1]
Category: John Wick (Movies), Punisher (Comics), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Barebacking, Bottom Frank Castle, Crossover, Dom/sub Undertones, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2019-10-18 23:03:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17590076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dev0n/pseuds/dev0n
Summary: Wick has the strangest feeling as he slinks into the storm drain that Castle let him go.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> man you guys have gotta be used to my weird bullshit by now. i did not proofread because i am a bastard.
> 
> title from bloodsport by raleigh ritchie.

Frank Castle nearly kills John Wick the first time he meets him.

This is unusual for two reasons. One: John Wick has never come quite so close to death before at the hands of just one man. Two: John Wick has never had to run for his life from just one man. But Frank Castle fights just as well as he does, if not better; and Castle has body armor, to boot. John is bleeding too profusely; even he can recognize when he's cornered. Even he is not too proud to admit temporary defeat.

He has the strangest feeling as he slinks into the storm drain that Castle let him go.

\---

They meet once, twice, three more times. Each time both men leave frustrated, confused, and a little intrigued by each other. After all, they are both as yet undefeated; and Frank has never had a chase go on this long, not since Billy Russo.

The fourth time the two run into each other, neither is killing anybody; in fact, Frank only has one gun and a knife on his person, while John has nothing. Both men tense and meet eyes as Frank enters the bar, but then John nods toward the rest of the room, indicating the (presumably mostly-innocent) crowd around them. Frank frowns, stalking toward John and taking the empty seat beside him at the bar.

"Truce?" John asks quietly.

"Heard you took out the Russians single-handed," Frank says in lieu of a response, pausing to catch the bartender's attention and order a beer. "Over a dog."

John tenses slightly. He doesn't look at Frank. "Yes," he says flatly. "And a car."

Frank's lips twitch at the corners, but he doesn't quite smile. "As good a reason as any," he says, and the sentiment is genuine. John must hear it in his voice, because some of the tension eases out of him. He doesn't say anything in response, just nods his head a little.

Belatedly, Frank says, "Truce."

\---

Somehow, drinking together that one time turns into a semi-regular thing. Frank doesn't know why he never waits for John to leave, never follows him out and puts a bullet in his head. Perhaps he feels a certain fucked up camaraderie with the man. John has never killed anyone who didn't deserve it, not really. And then there's the mutual, unexpected love of dogs -- the mutual loss of their wives. The mutual loss of everything that'd ever mattered to them.

Not that Frank will ever admit that, of course. For now, he just tells himself it's a quiet place to drink, and a willing conversation participant should he desire one.

It's a few months after they first run into each other at the bar that it happens. Frank doesn't know what's different about that night. Neither of them has had any more to drink than usual; he prefers to keep sharp, and he suspects John is the same way. Perhaps they've been talking a little more tonight, but casual conversation isn't anything new.

Maybe it's the way John laughs when Frank describes one of his most recent kills. Frank doesn't think he's ever even seen the man smile, and it makes a soft smile tug at his own lips. John's laugh fades as quickly as it'd happened, and they lock eyes for just a few seconds, both still smiling.

"I think I'm gonna get out of here," Frank says, breaking the gaze first. "Gettin' late."

"Right," John agrees quietly, smile fading. And something... Something in Frank just. Snaps.

"Let me rephrase that," Frank says, drumming his fingertips on the counter once. Nervous. John's eyes follow the motion before settling back on Frank's face, eyebrows raised slightly in expectation. "You wanna get outta here?"

John's eyebrows raise a little more, and Frank thinks he sees a little color rise to his cheeks. Could just be the lighting, though. "Oh," John says softly, and doesn't answer. Frank is about to take it back and flee the bar when John says, "Lead the way."

They make it as far as Frank's van before John pushes Frank up against the side. It's surprisingly -- or perhaps, in hindsight, not so surprisingly -- gentle. John cups Frank's jaw, brow furrowed as he looks at him. Frank thinks he looks as though he's trying to figure Frank out, trying to discover some ulterior motive. But he just waits, expression passive, until John's own expression eventually smooths out.

That's when Frank finally reaches up, curling a hand around the back of John's neck and dragging him down into a kiss. John responds immediately, hands curling into the front of Frank's jacket as he kisses him back, keeping him pressed up against the side of the van with a knee between his legs.

John is the first to pull back -- he's the only one who has any _room_ to pull back -- and both men are breathing a little heavily as they look at each other. "Are you okay to drive?" John asks, voice a little rougher than usual, and it takes Frank a second to drag his attention away from the feeling of John's leg between his own long enough to formulate a response.

"Ah? Oh, yeah -- I only had a couple, you saw me."

"Right," John says, and steps back. Frank feels cold. John clears his throat. "Where are we going?"

"I got a place," is all Frank says, and unlocks the van.

\---

Just like he was in the bar parking lot, John is gentle with Frank when they finally get back to his safe house. It makes Frank nervous, but he says nothing about it -- neither of them say much of anything, really, aside from brief directions or encouragements.

At one point, as John takes the lube from Frank, he realizes hilariously belatedly that _he's_ going to bottom. "When did we decide I was gonna bottom?" Frank asks, more of a token protest than anything. He likes to think he's comfortable in his masculinity, but sometimes -- sometimes some things stick whether he wants them to or not.

To his credit, John pauses, kneeling between Frank's legs. He arches an eyebrow. "Do you not want to?" he asks.

Frank hesitates. He feels the splotchy flush that spreads from his ears and cheeks down his neck and chest, but it's not like there's anything to do about it. "Hurry up, then," he mumbles.

"No," John says, and stays still. He leans down to trace his lips along one of Frank's scars. "Say it."

"Say what?" Frank asks desperately, still flustered and annoyed with himself for it.

"Say you want me to fuck you," John replies, like it's just that easy.

"I," Frank starts. John wraps a hand around his cock and gives it a few slow strokes, and a quiet, hitching gasp wrings itself from Frank's throat unbidden. "C'mon, asshole, just fuck me already," he snaps finally, arching up into John's touch. He feels that rare smile against his skin again, and grunts in disappointment when John's hand leaves his cock.

"Was that so hard?" John asks, still smiling slightly as he uncaps the bottle of lube.

"Jackass," Frank replies.

\---

"Do you want me to leave?" John asks when they're finished. He always speaks so bluntly, so plainly; Frank thinks that's part of what drew him to the former assassin in the first place. Frank considers this for a few seconds. He's tired; he doesn't want to think about it. He can't even summon up the energy to sit up on one elbow and look at his bedmate.

"Nah," Frank says finally, closing his eyes. "You can stay."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is no doubt as to whether or not John is gone when Frank wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise! there's more! this is... pretty much just porn.
> 
> this chapter also not proofread, because again, i am a bastard.

There is no doubt as to whether or not John is gone when Frank wakes up.

John is... Well, _spooning_ Frank. There's really no other word for it. But more importantly, his cock is hard and pressed firmly against Frank's ass. As Frank's brain slowly comes online, he realizes he's hard, too. He squints at the alarm clock on his nightstand; it's only five o'clock. Hm.

Frank rocks back against John's cock. He hears the other man's breath catch, and the arm he has draped over Frank's waist tightens.

"It's early," John murmurs against the back of Frank's neck, but he can't seem to help rutting forward against Frank's ass again.

"Yeah," Frank agrees, already reaching for the lube on the nightstand. John makes a quiet noise of displeasure when that means Frank has to leave his reach for a moment.

"You're insatiable," John says, a hint of a laugh in his voice.

"Shut up," Frank says, but there's no heat behind it. "I let you stay the night, you can make yourself useful."

"You have another condom?" John asks, taking the lube from Frank as he settles back in the same position.

Frank pauses. "Shit." He doesn't. But... "You need one?"

John goes quiet and still for a moment, and Frank tries not to squirm. He's learned by now that it just means John is thinking, but Frank hates not being able to read his body language. Even if he were facing John at the moment, Frank knows he wouldn't be able to read his expression, either.

"No," John decides eventually, uncapping the bottle. Frank relaxes minutely.

John slicks a few fingers and slides two inside Frank's entrance with ease. He's still open and loose from a couple hours ago, but John is nothing if not thorough. He presses his lips to Frank's shoulder, still surprisingly gentle, as he works two and then three fingers in and out of him at a slow, lazy pace. Frank shifts, bites back the noises that want to escape his mouth. He manages to keep quiet until John angles his fingers _just_ right -- at that point, Frank can't quite hold back a groan. He feels John's lips curve into a victorious smile against his shoulder.

John hits Frank's prostate three more time, dragging out a groan each time. Finally, though, Frank reaches behind him and twists a hand into John's hair. "Come on," he growls. "Fuck me."

This time, John _chuckles_ at him, the bastard, warm and deep with a hot little exhale against Frank's bare shoulder. "God, you're bossy," John says.

"Fuck you," Frank says, and bites back a grunt when John abruptly withdraws his fingers.

"I thought the reverse was the idea," John replies mildly, and Frank rolls his eyes. But he hears the cap to the lube bottle click open again, and then John's cock is nudging up against his entrance once more.

"Remind me why I let you stay the night?" Frank says through gritted teeth.

"I plan on it," John says, and he's inside Frank again with one smooth thrust.

This time, the groan drags itself from Frank's throat, low and quiet. John's hand grips Frank's hip tightly, and Frank releases John's hair so he can grab at the sheets instead. The slide of John's cock back into his ass is made easier by how loose Frank still is, how relaxed he is. And he really _shouldn't_ be so relaxed, not when the man he's fucking is John-goddamn-Wick, but...

"You're thinking too much," John says against Frank's ear, starting a languid pace of thrusting.

"Yeah," Frank agrees absently, rocking back into each of John's carefully measured thrusts. "Guess that means you're not doin' a very good job of distractin' me." He's not sure what about the man brings out his ─ for lack of a better term ─ _brattier_ side, but it's worth it for the way John abruptly rolls Frank over onto his front, pressing him down into the mattress by his hips.

Frank huffs out a quiet, surprised snort of laughter that fades into a groan as John straddles him and pushes back inside. This time he moves faster, deeper, though not particularly roughly. He presses his chest to Frank's back, biting gently along his neck and shoulder.

When John snaps his hips forward just so a few moments later, Frank sees stars. He thinks he cries out with it, though he'd never admit it. "There," Frank manages to grit out, and he already knows what's coming next when he feels John smile against his skin.

"Ask nicely," John replies, missing Frank's prostate on the next thrust.

Frank stays stubbornly silent long enough for John to miss his prostate two, three more times before he says it; a hastily-muttered "Please" that's muffled by his pillow.

"What was that?" John asks, and misses the spot again.

Frank, God help him, actually _whines_ , and immediately hates himself for it. Figuring all his dignity just went out the window anyway, he repeats, loud and clear, _"Please."_

John doesn't need to be asked twice. Frank can't help crying out again when John's cock hits his prostate again. John drags his nails gently down Frank's sides, making him shiver, then settles his hands back at Frank's hips. He starts to move faster, breath coming in pants, little grunts escaping him almost in time with Frank's moans.

"Close," John murmurs eventually, mouthing at the side of Frank's neck. "Do you want─"

"Inside," Frank interrupts, and he can't even bring himself to be embarrassed about it, not when that one word makes John groan like Frank's just said the sexiest thing he's ever heard. It's only another half a minute or so before John comes, groaning more loudly than Frank's heard him thus far.

But he's not done yet, apparently, because that's when John _lifts_ Frank, still impaled on his cock and starting to leak around it, holding him up with one arm wrapped around his chest. John uses the other hand to stroke Frank's cock, fast and tight, and Frank reaches one hand behind him to twist into John's hair as he rocks up into his hand, down against his softening cock. It doesn't take long for Frank to come with another of those embarrassing moans, and John doesn't stop stroking him through it until Frank bats halfheartedly at his hand.

Frank drops back onto the bed, uncaring that there's cum and sweat just sort of everywhere. Boneless and tired once more, he yawns into his hand and rolls onto his back to look at John, who's watching him from near the foot of the bed with an uncertain expression.

Frank glances at the clock, then looks back at John. "S'only six," he says. Then, softly and hesitantly, "Stay?"

John only contemplates that for a few seconds before reclaiming the right side of the bed. This time, he doesn't wait until Frank's asleep to press close and wrap an arm around his waist. Somehow, Frank finds he doesn't mind.


End file.
